


Never tell me the odds

by spideys_ass



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Slow Burn, Stephen Strange is a Good Bro, Tags will be added, Tony Stark Has A Heart, everyone that dusted is still around just as ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideys_ass/pseuds/spideys_ass
Summary: Here he is. Not dust. Awake. Alive. He brings his hands in front of his face. The deep red plated armour of the iron spider suit contrasting with the dry orange ground of the planet.But... something was off. Bringing his hand closer to his face, he could tell it was transparent.What the fuck?
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59





	1. Probability: 0.000007%

Peter opens his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” Is the last thing on his mind. He’s so sorry, he can’t believe he’s died, and in Mr. Stark’s hands. It was the one specific thing the man _begged_ him not to do. 

The painful memory of the man ripping Peter a new one after the ferry incident echos in his mind. _“And if you died... I feel like that’s on me. I don’t need that on my conscience.”_

No no no no no no. Peter can’t have done that to him. He just. He can’t. 

Wait. Wait wait wait. It’s like Peter’s brain is slowly waking up, turning on and getting with the program because, well. He’s here. 

Here he is. Not dust. Awake. Alive. He brings his hands in front of his face. The deep red plated armour of the iron spider suit contrasting with the dry orange ground of the planet. 

But... something was off. Bringing his hand closer to his face, he could tell it was transparent. 

What the fuck? 

Through his hand he sees the figure of his mentor. 

Oh right. “Shit.” 

Tony is collapsed, bent over where he’d been seconds prior, where he’d faded away into dust. His hands are crossed, held up to his face, which is scrunched up in pain. 

Peter’s frozen, staring at the man. Mr. Stark’s chest is heaving, his breathing ragged. He looked devastated.

A painful lump is forming in the back of Peter’s throat, waiting for Peter to free it, so it could become a sob, but he tries to repress it.

Peter watches as Mr. Stark finally breaks. An agonising sob erupts from the man, and he gingerly brings his hand away from his face, at the dust that remained there. 

_ The ashes. _

“P-Pete-“ Panicky gasps ring through the air, and listening to Mr. Stark break down, he can’t contain himself any longer. 

_In-out-in-out-in-out-in-out-in-out-in-out._ He can’t calm his breathing, can’t stop himself from hyperventilating. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe, and his face is wet, and Mr. Stark is crying, and-and Mr. Stark isn’t okay, and the man he’s idolised for years who’s always pretended to have it together isn’t pretending anymore, and Peter’s world is breaking apart, an-and. He’s dead. 

His attention is drawn to the lady in blue. The one that appeared in the spaceship that crashed right into Thanos. She walks to Mr. Stark, kneeling beside him. 

“I do not wish to interrupt your mourning. But the man, Quill, he had a ship that may still be functioning.” 

Peter hears Mr. Stark’s heartbeat, wild and rapid, start to even out, as does his breathing. He stands, facing the blue lady. 

“Alright. Lead the way.” 

Peter’s heart flutters as they turn their backs, walking away from the scene of his death. They’re leaving, that’s good! He wants Mr. Stark to get home. But... will he be able to come too? 

An anxious, icky feeling takes over him, not unlike his spider sense, and he runs after them, on his transparent legs. He needs to be with Mr. Stark— he’s gotta be with him. Please. 

Peter jumps in fright when orange sparks appear to his right. But they expand, a circle, and he remembers the portals. 

“Necklace Wizard!” Peter’s eyes are wide saucers. He hadn’t expected to see anyone else that was dead, but he guesses that it makes sense, right? If he’s like, weird and transparent after he turned to dust, it makes sense that the rest that got turned to dust would be transparent and sparkly too. 

“Peter.” The wizard looks terribly on edge. “We seem to... not be like them.” Strange gestures to the blue lady and Mr. Stark, already of them. 

Peter gulps. “We-We’re dead. I think.” 

“Yes.” Strange looks him in the eye. “Wasn’t expecting this, though.”

Peter cocks his head. “But I thought you looked into the future? Didn’t you see, like, everything?”

“Somewhat.” Strange glances from him to the living, and back to him. “We should probably be following them.” No kidding, Peter thinks. Strange starts walking, and Peter starts following. 

“So, like, when you were using the green necklace... why didn’t you see this? What even is this? Are we ghosts? Like force ghosts?” Peter bounced as they walked. “That would be kinda cool! If we weren’t dead, cause that part really sucks. Mr. Stark didn’t see me, so I know we’re not like, the poltergeist interactive type ghosts.”

Strange rubs a hand across his face. “How do you have this much energy after just having died?”

He could feel his eyebrows furrow. “Why? You feel tired? Maybe it’s connected to my powers, or something, I’m not sure. W-wait, hey! You answered my questions with a question!”

“Alright. Fine. The time stone will only show you time in which you are alive. So I had no way of seeing this.”

“Oh.” That sounds confusing and elaborate, and he wants to know more, but. It didn’t seem like the right time. Peter doesn’t think he could handle what would likely be a brain expanding conversation in his current state. His gaze was averted down, and feeling terribly sorry for himself, he moves his iron spider clad foot out to kick a small dusty orangey rock. 

It didn’t work. His foot passes right through it. Right. Transparent. 

When he looks up, he notices that the ship appears significantly closer. The blue lady and Mr. Stark are walking up the ramp. 

“C’mon, Mr. Strange— we gotta go! We— I— that ship.” He’s ready to run, to make a break for it, when instead, the wizard does the swirly thingy with his fingers. 

The orange sparks swirl, until a portal to what Peter’s sure is the inside to the ship solidifies. He steps though, without hesitation. He’s already done it so many times in the battle. “I can’t believe I forgot you could do that...”

His words are forgotten when he’s immersed in the new surroundings. Another alien spacecraft. He’d be excited, and well, he is kinda excited... but being dead kinda puts a damper on things. He hears the portal close behind him, and turns to see the wizard there.

It’s comforting to know that he’s not alone here. He dread knowing what it would be like if he didn’t have anyone. 

“Wait um, Mr— I mean, Doctor Strange? If we’re here, then shouldn’t the rest of those people from earlier be here too?”

The sorcerer blinks. “Yeah. That makes sense. Why didn’t I...” He scrunches his face up, confused.

Peter remembers the feeling. “I think it took me awhile to like, completely wake up, or something. It’s like I wasn’t all there at first. But um.” He walks towards a hugewindow in the craft, only to peer out and find the gloomy orange wasteland. “Well, I don’t see them.” 

Strange sighs. “I’ll keep checking, later. I can portal them over at any time.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Peter turns, taking in the ship once more. What they’re standing in, has to be the cockpit, and that ‘huge window’ is more like the windshield. The windshield extends into the ship, large and opal shaped. But the ship is pretty small, compared to the last alien spacecraft peter had been in, and he assumes the rest of the ship is proportionately as small. It was pretty dark, with many small instruments and toggles and things lit up around the ship. 

As Peter’s taking in the alien tech, he almost forgets what brought him here. _Almost_.

Noises from the opposite side of the ship shake Peter out of his daze. _Tony_. And the blue lady, of course. They’re sat on the floor of what he assumed to be the engineering room, with tons of thick metal piping flowing throughout the room. Tony is pointing to one, the blue lady right behind him, following his gaze. 

“This one. Right here. She’s cracked too.” 

“Nearly half of them are. This will take some time to repair.”

“Yeah. Ain’t getting home like this.” Tony sighs as he sifts from on his knees to leaning back with his ass on the ground. “Glad you got stuck with a mechanic?”

The blue lady’s evident lack of humour is very intimidating, and she turns to him with a cold expression. “It is very practical.” 

She’s scary. Peter decisively determines. 

“I— I wish...” Peter looks slightly to his left, aware of Strange’s presence. “I wish there was some way we could help. I could’ve helped them.”

“You could’ve helped them? Cause you know the first thing about...” The wizard gestures mindlessly. “Whatever they’re doing?” 

“Yeah! Somewhat...” Peter’s somewhat miffed when he hears the other huff in amusement. “No I’m serious! Sure, it’s alien tech, so even they probably don’t know everything about it, but... I’m not just some dumb kid! Tony doesn’t let me work in his lab just because I’m Spiderman. I— I mean, I don’t—“

“Wait, you’re telling me you work in Tony Stark’s lab?” Strange narrows his eyes.

“Well like, it—it’s not, I don’t have a job, I just go to the compound on weekends sometimes, and we hang out in the lab for most of the day. Look! My web shooters!” Peter shoots a ghost web from his ghost web shooter. “I designed and created the first sets of these. Uh, technically Tony’s upgraded them since, b-but! The web fluid has always been my creation!” Peter can’t help but smile somewhat, thinking about their time in the lab. 

Mr— No, Doctor Strange looks surprised? If that’s what his face is doing? It’s kinda hard for Peter to tell. “Wow,” He considers Peter for a second. “I have to admit I... wouldn’t have guessed that.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say to that. “Y-yeah.” He desperately needs a new conversation piece, but he doesn’t really know the wizard all that well yet. Oh! “So uh, I’m—I’m Peter. Parker. I said that before, but also, as you know Spider-Man. What’s your real name?”

The wizard stares at him blankly. “Doctor Strange.” 

“I—“

Strange huffs. “No, that is not my “made-up name”. I have a PHD and— well, previously I’d also had an MD.” 

“Wow!” Peter gapes. “Science and magic! That’s so cool!” Then he scrunches his nose up. “So your last name is, it’s actually Strange?”

“Yep.” The Doctor looks a bit deflated. “Stephen Strange.” 

“No way!” At Peter’s remark, Strange lifts a brow. “Alliteration bros!” 

The doctor wizard actually laughs, and Peter thinks that’s actually a pretty cool accomplishment. “I suppose so, Peter Parker.”

Peter can’t hide a smile, despite their surroundings. He turns to look back at Mr. Stark, working alongside the alien lady as if they’ve always worked together. He wishes that were him. Him by Mr. Stark’s side, working like he belonged there. Peter leans against the back wall, it supporting him as he slides down until his butt meets the ground, his arms hugging his knees. “Do you... do you think they’ll be able to fix this? Do you think they’ll be able to win?” 

Stephen, can he call him that? He’s certainly called Peter by his first name. Anyhow, Strange lowers himself to the floor, sitting cross-legged. “I hope so. There’s only one way in which events will perfectly match up for them to succeed, and I can only hope it’s this universe.”

Peter raises his head. “Didn’t you say there were like... billions?”

Strange sighs. “Fourteen million six hundred and five.”

“So...” Peter does the mental math. He quite appreciates the simplicity of numbers amidst all this... war? I guess he’d call it. “So we have a... wow, about seven one millionths of one percent change of succeeding.” 

“I think a good analogy would be it’s like trying to thread a needle with a bulldozer, in the complete dark, with the thread being as thick as the needle head. And you only have one chance.” 

He almost made Peter laugh. Except, there they were, two dead ghosts talking about the probability of them winning against a universal terrorist. So, yeah. Didn’t laugh. 

In the corner of his eye, Peter noticed movement. Mr. Stark and the blue lady stand up from evaluating the pipes or capsules or whatever they were— and leave the engineering room, heading into an area that looks more familiar to Peter— _considering_. It almost looks like one of those studio rooms that are in a hotel, although that’s probably too generous. It’s more crowded than that, too multipurpose. Maybe it’s like those rooms in cruises? Not that Peter’s ever actually been on a cruise, but he’s heard rumours that they have bunk beds and stuff, to save space. He supposes another good comparison would be like, military barracks, although, he’s never been in one of those either. 

There’s about half a dozen sets of bunk beds along the wall, and on the other side,a large table and what seems to be a kitchen area. 

“Lie down.” The blue lady says. They must’ve talked in the other room, because Tony gets up onto the table with no questions. He lies flat, back down, and lifts up his black tank up. 

Peter’s breath hitches. He’d nearly forgotten. Mr. Stark has a deep gash in his side, the blade Thanos used had gone all the way through his body. And here he is, blood smearing all over the table from the gash in his back, while he picks at the substance he’d spayed on the gash on his front. The blue lady smacks at his picking fingers. 

“Stop that. It’s already infected. Would you like to make it worse?”

Mr. Stark stops, and sighs, putting his arms at his side. The blue lady rubs some sort of disinfectant rag on the wound, Mr. Stark’s substance dissolving into it. The rag— well Peter doesn’t really want to call it a rag, it wasn’t ragged— cloth, that the blue lady used not only makes Mr. Stark cringe, but absorbed all of the excess blood, cleaning the would thoroughly. “This is only for the blood.” She then reaches into that thick leather jacket of hers and pulls out a... pen? “This will help destroy the infection.” 

Mr. Stark doesn’t seem too worried when she points the pen at the gash, but Peter’s eyebrows furrow. He’s always worried about Mr. Stark. When the blue lady presses a button, this sort of blue laser emits, shining light over the wound.

“Woah!” Peter’s shocked by the technology. He’s sure if Mr. Stark was stronger, he’d be awed too. “Do you see that Mr— I— I mean, Doctor Strange? That’s so cool!” 

Strange peers at the contraption. “It is in fact cool, it would completely revolutionise our medical technologies.” 

Peter stands and walks closer to the pair, still keeping some distance, out of habit for respecting personal space. But... he wants, wants to reach out. He attempts to put his hand on Mr. Stark’s forehead, a comforting touch at the man’s painful grimaces. But his hand falls through. He can pass right through his solid body. Mr. Stark groans as the blue light finishes whatever the hell it was doing. 

“Turn.” The blue lady repeats the process on the other side of Mr. Stark’s wound. Peter tries not to be heartbroken at the fact that he can’t touch him. I mean, what’d he expect? Since when can ghosts touch people. And that’d be a little creepy, too, wouldn’t it? If he could touch Mr. Stark and Mr. Stark wouldn’t even know. Peter, even dead, still blushes at the thought. 

The blue lady helps Mr. Stark to sit on the table, upright, and presses two weird alien pieces of tape to the front and back gashes. “Thank you.” 

“You should rest.” The blue lady tells him. “There are more preferable beds over there.” She nods her head in the opposite direction of the engineering room, closer to the cockpit. 

She walks in that direction, Mr. Stark following her, so of course, Peter follows him, and then the wizard follows him. They come to a hallway, or an intersection, almost. To the left and to the right were identical open circular doors, each leading to a more private bedroom than the bunks. It must be for the co-captains, or er, co-pilots? Of the ship. The blue lady nods to Mr. Stark, and walks into the circle door on the right, and Mr. Stark the one on the left. 

Mr. Stark takes a walk, circling the room, scanning the various graphic posters, guns, clothes, and cassette tapes that littered the room. Peter follows his every step. It reminds Peter of the first time they met, when Mr. Stark strutted throughout his room, inspecting different parts of it. He remembers being shocked with how fast the man had found the suit’s hiding spot, but he supposes it all turned out for the better. 

The man eventually flops down on the ruffled sheets, and turns over on his side, pulling one of the pillows close to his chest. The light from the arc reactor lights up the pillow, shining throughout it. Mr. Stark’s back is to the wall. They’re still on the planet of course, and well, Mr. Stark never does feel very secure. 

This means his face is turned towards Peter. Means Peter can kneel down on the ground, down on his knees, and be eye level with Mr. Stark. Means Peter can examine his face for as long as he wants. 

Or as long as Strange allows. The wizard clears his throat. He pretends he doesn’t hear it. 

He thinks Mr. Stark might actually be asleep. His breathing and heart rate have significantly slowed, but... The stress and tension carved into his face doesn’t fade. He’s pained to see the cuts and bruises Thanos inflicted on Mr. Stark’s face up close, and he wishes... He wishes he could kiss it all away. The injuries, the stress, all of it. And he wished his death wasn’t part of the reason it existed.

“Peter.” Strange shifted his footing. “We should probably head to the bunk beds. Try to sleep.” 

“Yeah.” Peter stands. They walk to the bunks, and yeah, he doesn’t really know what it is, but Peter waits for Strange to lay down, on one bottom bunk, before he claims the one right above it. Maybe he just wants to be as close as he can be to someone right now. 

As Peter closes his eyes, all he can think of is Mr. Stark in the other room, the man’s beautiful but pitiful face. He doesn’t have a single familiar face, and everyone but that blue lady around him died, including Peter, who promised he wouldn’t, and, and—

_”I don’t need that on my conscience.”_

Peter hopes he sleeps. He hopes he dreams of Mr. Stark.


	2. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! A week later! Maybe I really can do this schedule thing! Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy this update, the one after this one should be a bit more interesting, actually.

So, fun fact, force ghosts don’t sleep. 

Peter and the wizard had spent a few odd hours in silence before finally realising, when Peter couldn’t keep his trap shut any longer.

Anyway, so the two heroes are of course, awake, when the blue lady finally emerges from the room she’d slept in. She walks into their little bunker slash kitchen area, and digs through the cabinets, pulling out— food?

It’s nothing that Peter would ever recognise, not at all like anything on earth,and it’s utterly fascinating. There seem to be a few organic pieces that Nebula selects, along with something that might be like chips? Peter decides it’s probably made from some dehydrated produce. Peter sits up in bed, peering down at the blue lady eat. 

He eventually jumps off the top bunk to get a closer look. Strange looks at him look at the alien produce.

“Wow, kid. It’s like you’ve never left the country or something.”

Peter whips around. “I mean, um, technically I have.” Peter blushes and looks back at the fruits— Fruits? Vegetables? He guesses on earth people had fruits for breakfast more often than vegetables, but, if it’s not from earth it may have a whole different classification system. Wow. Mind blowing. 

Strange lifts his eyebrow, and just gonna be honest, that’s like, kinda intimidating. “You’ve been out of the country? Where?”

Oh man. “Uh, Germany? You know, when the Avengers broke up?” Wow, he really makes them sound like some kind of stupid boyband. “Or, I mean, fought? Against each other?”

Strange narrows his eyes. “Yes, I, and the rest of the world, remember the controversy surrounding the Sokovia Accords.” 

“Yeah, well. I was there too. With Mr. Stark. I m-mean,” Peter blushes, trying to correct himself. “For Mr. Stark, y’know, on his team.”

Strange stands up from the lower bunk, and peers down at Peter. His height is kinda intimidating actually... “I’m sorry, you’re— how old?”

“Sixteen.”

“You’re telling me Tony Stark pulled a fourteen year old child out of school to go to another country to fight against super powered terrorists in his personal little ‘civil war’.”

Peter crossed his arms. This is why he doesn’t tell people these things, they always get everything all wrong. “I’m not a child! And I’m just as strong as the super soldiers! Also, they’re not terrorists, they just...” Peter remembers what Mr. Stark said the few times he’d mention Rogers and Barnes. “They just thought they were doing the right thing, but they weren’t.”

The tall, scary wizard scoffs. “And? Like that makes it okay?” 

Peter pouts. He remembers telling Mr. Stark no when he first asked him to come, but that wasn’t because he thought what he was asking was bad, he was just, kind of intimidated. And actually, what right did someone who had no information on the circumstances to judge? “I’d actually rather not discuss Mr. Stark’s more questionable decisions at the moment.” And now Mr. Strange probably thinks he’s a smartass.

Strange rolls his eyes, and for a moment, looks like he’s about to say something else, but stops short, his eyes flickering to the room Tony currently inhabitants. Something stops him, maybe it’s the gravity of their recent situation, but he doesn’t push the subject. 

Peter feels bad, turning away from the wizard and back to studying the blue lady’s breakfast. 

He turns the second he hears physical footsteps, to see Mr. Stark finally emerging from the hallway. It feels like it’s been forever since he’d seen his face, even though it was just hours ago. He supposes it was the fact that he didn’t sleep, that made it feel like longer. 

The sight of him brings a soft, strained smile to Peter’s face, even if the finer details of Tony’s presence worry him. His eyes look baggy, like he had a restless sleep, and the scrapes and cuts on his face have scabbed over. His expression is worse, he looks... 

Defeated. Which, they were. 

Peter wants to help. He wants to reach out and try to comfort him, but his hand would just... fall through. 

Mr. Stark sits down next to the blue lady, who passes him one of the produce-fruit-vegetable-thingies. His nose scrunches up at the item, and Peter almost wants to laugh. He looks kinda cute. Really cute. Peter just smiles, somewhat, daydreaming about other times seeing that face would be a possibility, y’know, not stranded on a alien spacecraft. 

The blue lady talks about starting to work on the cracked fuel cells, and Mr. Stark just nods along. It’s a boring, tedious case, but even still, he wishes he could be there, living, to help. It’s painful, knowing he could help— and with more than the cracked fuel cells, but with Mr. Stark’s turmoil. He could comfort him, tell him he’s okay, _if he could just see him._

Peter sighs, turning back to Mr. Strange, who looked almost about as lost as he felt. “Hey, um...” Peter sits down on the lower bunk that was next to Strange’s. “We could look for the aliens that got dusted on Titan?”

The wizard just nods. Y’know he was kinda frustrating, jeez, just respond to a guy. Not everything has to be so cryptic, Mr. Strange. But he would never say that to him. 

The man’s orange swirly-swirls start up, and the desert wasteland that is Titan shows up. 

Peter goes to jump into the portal, but a hand from the wizard stops him.

“Ah, no. I’ll crossover once we actually find them. No use in looking for them by walking around if I can do a quicker search this way.” 

Peter’s about to ask what ‘this way’ meant, but Strange closes the portal, immediately opening another, closing it, and so on.

Peter sighs, leaning back in the uncomfortable bunk. Looking over at Mr. Stark, he’s kinda relieved he doesn’t have to leave him. Even though he doesn’t even realise he’s there. Peter just, he doesn’t think he’d really be okay separating from him. The previous night was bad enough, having to stay on the top bunk, in silence and the dark, under the impression that the wizard was about to fall asleep, while all Peter wanted to do was sneak into Mr. Stark’s room to reassure himself the man was still okay.

He’s yanked out of his thoughts when Strange suddenly jerks.

“There.” He points to a figure on Titan’s dusty landscape. “The female.” He reforms the portal closer to her.

Peter peaks up when he recognises her. “Mantis!” 

Strange leans into the portal, offering his hand to the alien. “I’d come through. We’re on a ship, that’s likely heading to earth. You can wait for your friends to reappear on here, with us.”

Mantis hesitantly rests her hand on the wizards, and steps through the portal. She comes through, with confusion written all over her face. Peter remembers how discombobulating portaling places could be, when they were fighting Thanos. 

“You!” Mantis exclaims, lunging forward to hug Peter. He’s frozen for a moment, not at all expecting the gesture. “You saved me!” Oh yeah. The fight was so chaotic, but he does remember that. It puts a small smile on his face, and he embraces her back. He’s just formulating what to say when she pulls back. 

“Oh, um—“ His arms leave her back, and they rest at his side, restlessly. “It was no problem, really, you just needed help, s—so I, uh—“

A hand to his cheek pauses him. “You are greatly distressed. You feel guilt and sorrow.” Her voice is so soothing, and Peter honestly could listen to it forever. “For him.” Her neck is turned, but he doesn’t even have to look to know who’s she’s talking about. 

“Yeah.” He grimaces, looking down at his iron-clad boots as they dangle over the edge of the bed. He can feel Strange’s curious eyes bare into him, he just knows they’re on him, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge that right now. ‘What is he, you ward?’ echoes in his mind. 

Peter thinks miserably, that yeah, that was exactly right, because, heck, what could their relationship be defined as past that? He decides he won’t think about how he wanted it to be ‘friend’ at the very least, after all those afternoons and lab projects and movies and fights and—

No. Stop it. Damn it, he’s thinking about it.

Sheesh, at least Mantis didn’t feel that. 

———

They’re back in the engineering room, again. This time, Mr. Stark and Nebula— Mantis mentioned that the blue alien lady’s name was actually Nebula— were working to repair the cracked fuel cells while Peter, Strange, and Mantis discuss what happened on— well, they discuss everything that comes to mind actually. 

Honestly, Peter really likes having Mantis around. She’s really funny and kind, and reminds Peter a little of Karen. Obviously she’s not omnipresent and all knowing, like Karen, but it’s nice to have something kind that seems truly invested in him, even though they kinda just met.

“He called me an insect!” Peter whined. “‘Cursed with knowledge’, pfft no. Someone cursed with knowledge would know spiders aren’t insects!” At his outburst, Mantis just tilts her head, confused, but if Peter squints, he can almost see the outline of a smile on Strange’s face. “I died mad about it.” And yes— finally. He laughed. He got the wizard to laugh.

“He’s a maniac who was in a genocidal rampage hell bent on killing half of the universe, I don’t think he particularly cared about being accurate.” Strange deflects, while still, smiling. 

“Yeah, that’s true. I guess it’s better than what the other Peter-guy called me— he called me a freak! My name buddy!” Peter Quill was seriously weird. He isn’t gonna say that outright, and he sends Mantis a sheepish glance, feeling bad for talking about her friend, but... dude thought Footloose was cool. He knows at least Mr. Stark would agree with him, from the glances they’d exchanged while on Titan. 

Now that, that was special. Yeah, sure, they were surrounded with strangers and aliens, but Peter was the closest person Mr. Stark had to him on the entire planet. When Mr. Stark turned to Peter with one of his _They can’t be fucking serious_ looks, honestly, it had warmed his heart. 

“Seriously though, I can’t believe that guy didn’t know he was from Earth. Mr. Stark was sooo shook.”

Strange squints at him, as if he wasn’t caught up on modern slang, but also as if he knew better than to ask. “The man has terrible self control. And anger issues. Obviously, we wouldn’t have defeated Thanos right then and there either way, but he didn’t know that.” 

Peter contemplates this, and, while he does feel bad for the other Peter, who just lost his girlfriend, but his actions had some serious consequences. He made Peter almost lose Mr. Star—

No. He’s NOT comparing the other Peter’s girlfriend to Mr. Stark. Nope. Not happening. He needs to shut down that line of thought before it goes ANY further. 

At the edge of his vision Peter sees Mr. Stark finally stand up from where he was working on the cracked fuel cells. 

Mr. Stark almost died. And not in the snap, not in the way that he would’ve been here, by Peter’s side. In the way that he would’ve been dead, dead. If it hadn’t been for Doctor Strange saving him. Peter hadn’t been close enough, and wouldn’t have been able to do anything to help even if he was close. He couldn’t have saved Mr. Stark. But Doctor Strange did. He could feel his eyes swimming with tears that he wills not to fall, as he watches Mr. Stark cross the engineering room and towards the cockpit. Naturally, Peter follows, the other two trailing after him. Tony sits on the ground, next to what’s left of his Iron Man suit, and fiddles with the wreckage.

“Doctor Strange?” Peter’s voice comes out meek.

“Yes?”

Peter sits nearby to Tony, on the ground, eyes fixed on him instead of Strange. “I um,” He looks down at his gloved hands, studies the hard lines of the armour that created the webbing pattern. His armour was almost fully intact, while Tony’s was... He lets out a shaky breath. “I just wanted to thank you. For saving Mr. Stark’s life.”

Strange opens his mouth but before he can reply, Peter cuts him off. “Yeah, I know, you did it because it was the only way to win. But still. Thank you.” He feels some tears start to betray him, the rogues sliding down his cheeks. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.” _I don’t know what I would’ve done if Tony Stark died._

Strange just nods. He doesn’t exactly look confused, but, questioning, is probably the best way to describe it. Obviously this kid is extremely attached to Tony Stark, but he still has no idea how or why. Not that it was his business, or that he cared. Nope, that’s a lie. He’s really starting to warm up to this hyper kid, but he really doesn’t want to show it.

Seeing all the scrapes and damage to the suit fills Peter with a bitter rage. Nothing should be able to rip apart Stark armour like that. 

Mr. Stark’s been fiddling with the armour for a little while now, but suddenly, something in it clicks, and warm, blue light is emitted from it, scanning Tony. 

Peter bats away the thought that, _wow, he’s beautiful,_ and instead eagerly watches what Tony’s doing. 

“I don’t know if anyone’s going to see these. I want to say, hopefully not. Maybe I make it back to Earth alive and there’s no need for these, maybe I can just delete them and laugh. But that doesn’t look likely.”

“But then, if I don’t make it back. Alive, which is likely. Uh, well, I guess I just have things I need to communicate, things I wanted to say, things I should’ve said, and I can’t let the end be... this. Plus, this could all just be therapeutic. Either way, I hope someone’s listening.”

“Well, first thing’s first, it is day three on the Benatar. I’m here with Nebula, and we’re... we’re still on Titan. Fuel cells were cracked during battle with Thanos. We’ve managed to find a way to temporarily mend the cracks in the cells, but I don’t know yet how we’re gonna get her in the air.”

Mr. Stark leans back, against the back of one of the cockpit seats. He’s silent for a little, like he doesn’t want to continue. 

“All I’ve been able to think about... is what I lost on Titan. If, and that is a big if, we make it back to Earth, I will stop at nothing to fix this. There’s gotta be a way to fix this. I can’t— It was my responsibility to protect the kid, and I couldn’t. I failed. Died in my arms.” He grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is much quieter. “If I have the chance...” He brings the back of his hand to the helmet, rubbing against what would be the cheek of the face plate. “I will bring you back, kid.” Mr. Stark put his hand behind the faceplate, cutting the feed.

Mr. Stark didn’t move from his position, he just continued to lay back, staring at his destroyed suit. 

Peter just pulled his knees up to his chest, and later, when he’d feel a tickle on his cheek, he’d reach his hand up to discover his face still wet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think down below! :D

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any comments, ideas, suggestions, critiques, tips, etc... throw ‘em down below!


End file.
